


The Wedding of Sir Gwaine

by celeste9



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bargaining, M/M, Riddles, Sacrifice, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 18:30:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5216201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9/pseuds/celeste9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwaine makes a sacrifice in order to protect the life of his king. A retelling of the Dame Ragnell story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wedding of Sir Gwaine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Clea2011](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clea2011/gifts).



> Belated birthday fic for the lovely clea2011. I know you're still away at the moment but if I don't post this now I'm not sure when I'll be able to! Hope you enjoy. :) (Also, please feel free to imagine whatever you like about Arthur and Merlin, lol.) For the wild card on my h/c bingo card (sacrifice).

The deer had led them on a merry dance. Arthur, as was his wont, had raced off deeper into the woods on the trail of his quarry. Gwaine raced after him, leaving the rest of their companions laughing and calling after him as they recouped. 

When Gwaine found Arthur, the king was neither victorious with a smile on his face nor ruefully cursing the beast that got away. He was kneeling in the dirt, his horse nowhere to be seen, his sword gleaming in the underbrush out of reach, with a pale, dark-haired beauty of a woman standing over him.

“Sire!” Gwaine called out, aiming his crossbow at the woman’s heart.

“Stay back, Gwaine!” Arthur shouted.

Before Gwaine could loose his bolt, he felt an unbearable burning sensation in his hand that travelled up his arm until he cried out and was forced to drop his crossbow. He moved to draw his sword but found he could not move. Helpless, he could do nothing but watch the woman as she smiled evilly at his king.

“Such loyalty your knights show you, my lord,” she said, mockery in her tone. “Shall I show him how I repay such loyalty?”

“No!” Arthur said, staring up at her. “Your quarrel is with me.”

“Mmm, yes, so it is. Pity. Well, there will be time for him later. Now, Arthur. I thought I would kill you now but that would be too easy. Not nearly as much fun for me, you see. So let’s play a game.”

“A game?”

“Yes. I’ll tell you a riddle, and you must return to me with your answer in a year and a day. If you don’t, or if you give me the incorrect answer, I’ll…” The woman smiled first at Gwaine, and then back at Arthur. “I’ll kill you and take your crown, of course.”

All Gwaine could do was look on in horror.

“And if I refuse?” Arthur asked.

“Then I’ll simply kill you now. And brave Sir Gwaine, as well, obviously.”

Arthur bowed his head. “It shall be as you say.”

The woman clapped her hands together. “Wonderful! Here is my riddle. Tell me, Arthur Pendragon, what is it that women desire most in all the world?”

“What do women desire most in all the world?” Arthur repeated doubtfully.

“That’s it. Bring your answer to me in a year and a day, don’t forget.” Then she was simply gone, vanished as though she had never been there.

Gwaine nearly fell from his horse as he regained control of his limbs. Recovering himself, he dismounted and rushed to Arthur’s side. “Are you hurt, Arthur?”

“My pride only,” Arthur said, his shoulders bowed with weariness. 

“We’ll find the answer,” Gwaine promised him. “Can’t be that hard, can it? We’ll ask every woman at court; we will find the answer.”

Arthur clasped Gwaine’s shoulder. “Let’s hope you’re right.”

-

“Gwaine should know the answer,” Merlin said later, back at court, grinning. “He’s certainly wooed enough of them. Or did you not leave them satisfied?”

Arthur was scowling in spite of - or perhaps because of - Merlin’s cheerfulness. “This isn’t a joke, Merlin.”

“No, of course not, it’s very serious. I’m taking this so seriously.”

“Merlin.”

Merlin laughed. “Come on, Arthur! Can you not accept the ridiculousness of the situation just for a moment? You got ambushed and, I might add, completely embarrassed by a sorceress who then asked you to tell her what women want to stop her from killing you.”

“It is pretty ridiculous,” Gwaine felt compelled to agree.

“Thank you, Gwaine.”

“Yes, all right, fine,” Arthur said. “It’s terribly droll, ha ha. Now can we get back to solving this riddle so Camelot doesn’t lose its king?”

Merlin’s mirth faded in the face of Arthur’s all too obvious concern. Arthur was worried. He was afraid.

“We’ll find the answer,” Merlin said, just as Gwaine had.

They had to. The king’s life depended on it.

-

They asked every woman at court and every woman in the lower town what she most desired. Their answers were all different. Some said beauty, some said food on the table, some said fine clothes. Jewels, wealth, power, healthy children, a handsome husband, a kind husband, a rich husband.

“A young husband,” said one old crone, to the merriment of her companions.

“None of these are right,” Arthur said, despairing. “None of these is the answer! I cannot lose Camelot to that sorceress; I will not lose Camelot.”

“No, you won’t,” Gwaine said. 

Arthur, Gwaine, and Merlin went on a journey throughout the country, visiting every town and village. They asked every woman they saw, young or old, rich or poor, what their answer to the riddle was.

Still all the answers were different, and none felt right. Arthur had a book filled with responses and yet as every day passed, he grew more afraid that the sorceress would claim his life.

“I’ll kill her,” Merlin said as they rested one night. “If you give an answer she doesn’t like, I’ll kill her.”

“You won’t,” Arthur said.

“I will.”

“No, you won’t! I made her a promise, Merlin. It’s a matter of honour.”

“And what good will honour do you if you’re dead?”

Arthur didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. Merlin knew as well as Gwaine did that Arthur would rather die than break his word.

-

The year passed more quickly than anyone wanted it to. Arthur returned briefly to Camelot in order to set his affairs in order, should the worst come to pass. Being childless, he named Queen Guinevere his heir, with Merlin to continue on in his role as advisor. When the time came to meet his fate, Arthur would allow no one but Gwaine to accompany him.

Gwaine was glad he had not been a witness to the row that must have taken place when Merlin was informed of that fact.

The journey was a subdued one. Not even Gwaine felt much like talking. Every time he thought to fill up the silence with mindless chatter, to attempt to temper the dread with some small measure of humour, the look on Arthur’s face stopped him.

They camped in the woods the night before Arthur was due to meet the sorceress. As they went to collect firewood, Gwaine was startled to see a figure approaching. He was even more startled when the figure came into better view.

It was the most hideous man Gwaine had ever seen, if ‘man’ was even the proper term. The ugliest living thing Gwaine had ever cast eyes on. He was misshapen, his back bent and his fingers twisted and gnarled, and his face was covered in sores and warts. His hair was thinning, limp and drab, and his eyes were sunken into his face.

When he opened his mouth to speak, what teeth he had left were yellow. “Arthur Pendragon,” he said. “I would ask what brings you here but I already know the answer.”

Arthur, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword, said, “Do you?”

“I do indeed. You seek the Lady Morgana, to give her the answer to her riddle.”

“And how do you know this?”

“Does it matter how when I can give you the answer you have been searching for?”

Arthur looked to Gwaine, surprise etched on his face. “The answer?”

“Of course. Shall I give it to you?”

“Just like that? You would tell me what I’ve spent the last year searching for?”

“Oh, no, not just like that. There would be a price, of course.”

“Of course,” Arthur said, his shoulders slumping just a little. “And why should we believe you? Why would you know the answer when all those women did not?”

“Are you willing to take the risk that I am wrong? That the answer is in your book?”

Gwaine could see Arthur hesitate and knew that he was thinking of all those pages and pages of answers, all good, but none right. None of them were right and they both knew it.

“What do you want in return?” Arthur asked.

The loathly man’s yellow, gap-toothed smile was a sight Gwaine would not soon banish from his memory. “The hand of one of your knights.”

Arthur gaped. “The hand of one of my knights? You want to marry one of my knights?”

“Yes.” The ugly man’s gaze fixed on Gwaine. “This one. This one will do.”

Gwaine tried not to recoil. “Me?”

“Will you accept my terms?”

Arthur drew Gwaine aside, speaking quickly and low. “I will not ask you to do this, Gwaine. I could not ask anyone to do this.”

“But if I agree, you’ll be safe.”

“Perhaps.”

Gwaine forced a smile. “Seems there’s only one thing to do, then.” He walked over to the ugly man and knelt down before him. “I ask for your hand in marriage, sir.”

The man stared at him, something like desperation written in his appalling features, but then he recovered himself, cackling. “Ah, then I accept.”

“Tell us what we want to know,” Arthur said, voice tight. “Keep your end of the bargain.”

The loathsome man answered readily enough. “What women desire most in all the world is sovereignty. The freedom to rule themselves, to do as they wish.”

When the man spoke, they both knew that he was right.This was the answer to the sorceress’ riddle.

Gwaine looked up at the man he was honour-bound to marry. _For the king,_ he told himself. _For the king._

Nothing else mattered.

-

Neither Arthur nor Gwaine slept that night, each with their own troubles and fears. Gwaine knew he could only hope to have the chance to marry that horrible creature for if he did not, it would mean that his king was dead. Gwaine’s personal struggles meant nothing in the face of that.

In the morning they walked their horses together to the clearing where Arthur had first met the sorceress, the Lady Morgana. Just before they arrived, Arthur gave his horse’s lead to Gwaine and said, “I must finish this on my own, Gwaine.”

“Arthur--”

“It’s all right. You have the book?”

Gwaine retrieved it from his pack, smoothing his hand over the leather cover before relinquishing it to Arthur. “You are not going to tell her what... what that man told you?”

“I thought I might try some of these first. If we already have the answer, there would be no need to keep the bargain.”

“Keep me a single man a little longer, eh?” Gwaine said, trying and failing at levity.

“The ladies at court would thank me.” Arthur reached out and they embraced briefly.

“See you soon,” Gwaine said, for he needed to believe that would be true. 

Arthur strode away with his head high, prepared to meet whatever fate awaited him.

The time passed agonisingly slowly. Gwaine whistled a tune under his breath to distract himself and resolutely did not think of anything. He did not think of Arthur and the sorceress and he did not think of the ugly man.

When Arthur finally reappeared, Gwaine could not stop himself from launching himself at the king and hugging him tightly. “Arthur! My lord! She accepted the answer, then? And she kept to her promise?”

“She did,” Arthur said, pulling back, his smile slipping from his face. “I gave her the proper answer. I am sorry, Gwaine.”

With Arthur’s apology, Gwaine knew which answer had been given. His own fate was sealed.

But the king was safe. Gwaine would do his duty to ensure Arthur remained so. “No, sire. I would wed a hundred loathsome creatures if it meant saving the life of my king.”

-

Though only two riders had set out from Camelot, three returned, for Arthur and Gwaine brought with them Gwaine’s intended. The loathsome man was greeted with thinly veiled disgust, unkind whispers and looks of revulsion. 

He rode on Gwaine’s horse, seated behind him, and Gwaine pretended not to notice the reaction of the onlookers. He would need to get used to it, after all. This was to be his life until the end of his days.

Arthur gave the man a fine room to stay in while preparations for the wedding were made. It would be quick and less grand than such an occasion would generally call for. Still, Gwaine was a knight of Camelot and there would need to be a feast and dancing.

Gwaine’s fellow knights were subdued. There was no teasing, no gentle jabs. They pitied him, he could tell, and they were quietly grateful that it was Gwaine who would marry the creature and not them.

He could not blame them.

-

The day of the wedding dawned bright and beautiful, as sunny and cloudless as a fairy tale. Gwaine and his intended had both been fitted for new clothes, though not even fine silks could improve the loathly man’s appearance. He looked like a monster playing dress-up.

Nevertheless, Gwaine walked with him down the aisle, steadfastly looking ahead. He could not bear the pity radiating from the aisles, which was perhaps even worse than the jeering he had witnessed his husband-to-be receive in the streets on the previous day. (Gwaine had walked out to take him by the arm and bring him back to the castle. He may not have wanted this, but no matter the circumstances he could not allow the man he was bound to marry to face such cruelty.)

Gwaine repeated his vows by rote and then it was over. It was done.

He and the man sat at the best table in the hall, just beside the king and queen. Gwaine sent all his dishes away for he had no appetite. He appreciated the wine, however. His new husband was quiet beside him and seemed to take little pleasure in his victory. Gwaine wondered what he had sought to gain from this, from a life at court with people who would never accept him, from a lifetime where he would be faced with ridicule. At least when he had been on his own, there had been no one to laugh at him.

It was sad. Gwaine would have felt sorry for him if he hadn’t felt so sorry for himself.

There was little chatter and even less laughter in the hall. Guinevere bravely tried on several occasions to strike up conversations but her efforts always fizzled out. Merlin, too, made attempts, but Arthur was stoic and withdrawn, no doubt blaming himself for Gwaine’s plight.

When the musicians began to play, Gwaine’s heart sank for he knew he would need to follow tradition and lead his husband in a dance. He rose to his feet and outstretched his hand.

For a moment Gwaine thought he beheld fear in the ugly man’s eyes, but it passed. The man took Gwaine’s hand and let Gwaine lead him into an awkward, shuffling dance. Gwaine felt the eyes of the court on him for several long, painful moments before Arthur and Guinevere joined them. The rest of the court followed.

Gwaine suffered through three dances before he said to his husband, “I’ve had enough, haven’t you?”

He seemed almost grateful. “Yes.”

So they made their farewells and excused themselves from their own wedding feast. No one made any jokes about the bedding, nor did anyone offer their good wishes. Guinevere kissed first Gwaine and then, astoundingly, the ugly man on their cheeks but not even she could manage kind words for their future.

New rooms had been prepared for them, larger than Gwaine’s previous chambers in the castle. His clothing and belongings had already been brought in by servants. To avoid looking at the bed, Gwaine opened the wardrobe and pretended to be fascinated by his own shirts.

“Will you not kiss me, husband?”

Gwaine startled and turned around. His husband was standing there in front of the bed, still looking foolish in his fine clothes. He remained the ugliest creature Gwaine had ever laid eyes on, but he was also the most piteous. Had he ever received a moment’s kindness in his entire life? Had his mother looked on her loathsome child and ordered him to be taken away? 

When he had made his bargain with Arthur, perhaps all he had wanted was the merest possibility that someone, anyone, might show him kindness. Hope was a difficult emotion to let go of and loneliness was nearly impossible to live with. Perhaps he was clinging to hope that Camelot could save him as it had saved so many others. 

Gwaine felt ashamed for how he had behaved and for how, even now, he thought of this unenviable being. His life must have been a misery.

Gwaine stepped forward and bent down, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to the lips of the man he would be tied to forever.

Suddenly the room seemed very bright and Gwaine closed his eyes against it. When he opened them again, in the place of the loathly man stood a tall, handsome young man with wavy blonde hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and the kindest eyes Gwaine had ever seen.

“I’m sorry,” Gwaine said. “I’m confused. Wasn’t there just a hideous old guy in here?”

“There was. He was me.”

“All right. Still confused.”

“With your kiss, you have undone half of the curse that was put upon me. This is my true appearance.”

“So… so I’m married to you?”

The man very nearly rolled his eyes. “Yes, you are married to me.”

Well. Gwaine hadn’t done so badly out of this deal, after all.

“The curse yet remains, however,” the man went on regretfully. “For twelve hours of every day I must look as you knew me before. For the night or for the day I must be that loathsome creature.”

Gwaine’s heart sank again. “Hell of a curse.”

“Indeed. I leave it to you to decide. Shall I be as I am for the night, or for the day?”

If the man wore his true face during the day, then at night Gwaine would be stuck with an undesirable bed partner for all of their time alone together. If he wore his true face during the night, though, Gwaine would be forced to bring the ugly creature to court with him, to face pity and ridicule. Neither choice seemed right, and none of it was fair for the man who had been cursed.

So Gwaine said, “You ask me? That doesn’t seem fair, does it? It’s you who’s got to live with it. It should be your choice.”

His husband’s answering smile seemed nearly as bright as the light from his transformation. He cupped Gwaine’s head in his hands and pulled him into a kiss, a real kiss.

Gwaine was all too reluctant to end it, but eventually the man pulled back and said, “Thank you. With your kindness, you have broken the curse for good. You gave me the freedom to choose for myself, proving that you are as true a knight as I was. The sorceress who cursed me said such a person did not exist.”

“Well,” Gwaine said, rubbing the back of his head. “I’m glad to have proved her wrong.”

“Not as glad as I.”

“You haven’t told me your name,” Gwaine realised. Even now he had nothing better to refer to his husband than ‘the man’.

“Leon. My name is Leon.”

“Leon? Sir Leon? The Sir Leon who served Arthur, and Arthur’s father before him?” 

“The very same.”

“The court still speaks of you. No one ever knew what happened to you.” It had been before Gwaine’s time in Camelot. He had almost come to believe that the famous Sir Leon was simply an invention, fairy tales told to amuse the court. No one could live up to the knight in those stories.

“I was cursed,” Leon said simply, his cursory reply enough to stay Gwaine’s tongue. Perhaps one day, Leon would speak of it.

“That’s why you helped. You wanted to protect Arthur still, even if this was the only way you could.”

Leon inclined his head. “And perhaps receive something out of it for myself, as well.”

“That worked out well for you.”

“It did.”

“Why me?” Gwaine asked, because he had to. “Did you really think I would break the curse?” 

Leon had said that he needed to find a knight as true as he was. In that case, why choose Gwaine? Surely Lancelot would have been better. Lancelot was the one everyone talked about, anyway. Gwaine was just… Gwaine was the one who got into trouble, who was good in a brawl, who could be relied on for a fun night out in the tavern. He wasn’t particularly true.

“My options were a bit limited,” Leon said.

“Oh, thanks,” Gwaine muttered and tried not to feel hurt. He’d asked, after all. 

“I chose you,” Leon said, his gaze intent, “because I believed you would free me. I may not have been able to return to Arthur’s court but I always stayed near; I observed and I listened to all the stories. You are loyal and kind and you treat everyone with respect, no matter their position. You see the best in people. I hoped you would see the best in me.”

“Well, don’t I sound lovely?” Gwaine said, trying to cover his embarrassment. He wasn’t certain he deserved so much praise, particularly not from Leon. Leon who hardly knew him, Leon who had earned such prestige himself. 

“Perhaps sometimes.” Leon’s mouth twitched in a faint, sly smile.

“So,” Gwaine said, the pieces all coming together. “I saved Arthur with my noble sacrifice _and_ I rescued his long-lost favourite knight with my generosity. Not too bad for the knight no one much remembers.”

Now Leon was frowning. “It was my answer that saved Arthur.”

Gwaine waved his hand in the air dismissively. “All right, you helped a bit. But my part was far more heroic. The sacrifice and all.”

“I think I’d like a divorce now. I don’t need you anymore.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. No one ever said you were dramatic.”

“I hadn’t been stuck in a room with you before.”

“Being stuck with me is wonderful,” Gwaine insisted, resting his hand on Leon’s broad chest. “Look, we’ve got this big bed here _and_ we’ve just been married. We should probably test it.”

Leon let himself be pushed down onto said bed. He raised an eyebrow. “To see if it works?”

“To see if quite a few things work.”

“Oh my God.”

Gwaine laughed and kissed away Leon’s appalled expression. “Don’t you think we should find out if we like each other, now that we’re married?”

“I don’t think I do like you, really,” Leon said, but he let Gwaine keep kissing him anyway. Rather enthusiastically, actually.

“That’s a terrible thing to say to the man who rescued you from a horrible curse,” Gwaine said against Leon’s neck, and found that Leon was far too distracted to argue.

-

They arose late in the morning and did not leave their chambers until close to midday. Gwaine would have been content to stay in bed all day, in truth, but Leon, being true and noble and all that, was determined to let Arthur know that he had returned.

Arthur was in the council chambers, alone, pacing anxiously. When he saw Gwaine come through the doors he said, “Gwaine! I can’t believe you’re so late, I thought something must have happened, for surely--” He stopped in mid-breath for he had seen Leon. 

Arthur blinked several times. “Leon? How can it be?”

“Sire,” Leon said, bowing.

Gwaine smiled first at his husband and then at his king. “Apparently it isn’t only women who wish for the freedom to rule themselves.”

**_ End _ **


End file.
